Thurbage Burbles

With the boycott in full roar on the campus the time has come for me to make a statement. For several years now I have been conducting a private boycott of lectures. Quietly, unobtrusively, I have been protesting against the system. For all their energy the present boycotters are merely "working along well-established lines." In addition I have carried out one-man marches on parliament and staged a sit-down on the South Karori Road. My fees are "continuing to rise." However, I do not consider a boycott to be my "trump card."

Next month, it the situation is not improved, I am considering dribbling from the carillon and then throwing oranges at the municipal incinerator. We could do with more of this type of mature protest.

Concerning bursary anomalies I have a question. Would a Eurasian Fiji citizen, residing in New Zealand with knock knees and a Colombo Plan wife doing an MA extramurally from Lincoln, be eligible on a fees and allowance bursary, for a free ticket to the freshers' ball? Does the Government realise the extent of such cases? Just as well.

I was sitting, minding my own, in the cat last fortnight when I overheard a heavy brunette with a sagging bun speaking to a friends of undetermined sex.

Sagging brunette (lifting haricot chop dolefully): "Yes. But corduroy may not be the answer this week." (Italics mine.)

There may be a few of you who don't see the possible significance of this remark. What does the sagging brunette mean when she says corduroy may not be the answer this week? Is it possibly the answer next week? Can we disregard the sexual overtones of corduroy? Who is the green man with the brief case? Personally I was concerned with whether she was merely composing a subversive crossword. Listen next week.

An imaginary correspondent has written to me concerning the correct use of the word "Thurbage." He suggests that it is derived from the Sanskrit spelling of that species of green bamboo that is trampled upon by the Abyssinian water buffalo (hyperbole) on the way to its watering holes. He continues, "and furthermore the aptness of the derivation might suggest that 'Thurbage' means incompetent, unoriginal, banal."

Well. When it was first suggested by an editor of Salient (who has since Resigned) (my capitals) that I write a column the name was intended to be "Furbage," obviously enough the hunting call of a mating scholar. However, an Italian compositor with a lisp defaced the nom de plume and it has subsequently appeared as "Thurbage." Hence, or therefore, the word is clearly the cry of a cleft-palated, Adriatic scholar on heat. Any more questions?

The SGM, which I have been informed is the biggest turnout of students since the Marist-University game last winter, inspired the most student interest for many a long year. There was a sellout in the common rooms with the folding doors folded and 950 or so crammed in. Compere was Mr. T. Robins, and supporting cast included Mr. A. Taylor in a green corduroy jacket, and Mr. J. McKinley singing the blues. Old favourite Mr. P. Blizard made a short guest appearance to the delight of many. Up-and-coming shouting blues man Mr. Boshier impressed and perhaps overshadowed some of the more renowned performers. Miss Sutch and Mr. D. Paxie were perhaps the least well received of all. Students who want to see more of our stars should go to Exec. or, in fact, almost any other meeting. Mr. T. Bertram dispensed with the microphone as a dramatic gesture, and Mr. A. Ashenden wore his much-beloved red blazer. Despite amendments and quibbles concerning the definition of a reasonable majority the vote was carried. The students went home to cocoa and the Executive tidied up the common room, Most people came alert and interested. Most went home bored but involved.